


Demons Run (But Count the Cost)

by prototyping



Category: Kingdom Hearts
Genre: Gen, KH3-era, contains a few guesses re: 0.2, genfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-18
Updated: 2017-06-18
Packaged: 2018-11-15 19:10:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,962
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11237370
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/prototyping/pseuds/prototyping
Summary: When provoked, even the bird raised in a cage knows how to bite.





	Demons Run (But Count the Cost)

_“--The battle's won, but the child is lost.”_

* * *

When the silence was broken by the sound of a portal splitting the still air, Naminé knew something was wrong.

She opened her eyes and lifted her head, blinking a couple times as she readjusted to the bright, all-encompassing white of the walls, floor, and ceiling. Her gaze was naturally drawn to the only spot of color in sight: the earthy, light and dark tones of the sleeping boy’s clothes. He sat upright in a throne too big for him, his posture limp and relaxed. The expression on his face was as peacefully blank as his dreams.

That easy air around him normally made her smile, but Naminé was frowning as she dragged her eyes away from her charge and turned towards the unwelcome sound. The black-purple rift at the far end of the room was familiar, troublingly so. As she watched, a single person emerged -- donning a black coat and hood that were also familiar.

She knew her surprise and confusion showed. They had located the Chamber? How? Aqua had revealed it to her and let her inside, convinced that it was still safe and hidden as long as the castle remained in its current state. That was the only reason, surely, that she and Terra had left Ven here, trusting him to the room’s protection a little longer while they were pulled away.

“What are you doing here?” Naminé’s voice sounded more confident than she felt. The bigger question was _how_ he was here -- because it was, going by the stance and body shape, most definitely a he -- but she could worry about that later.

The figure stared at her for several blank seconds, and then in a forebodingly slow motion turned his head towards Ventus. Naminé tensed. Without so much as a word he started towards the throne, his footsteps patient and deliberate.

Naminé’s hands clasped together until they hurt. Every muscle in her body told her to step back, but she fought the urge and remained rooted in place. The stranger ignored her, and all too soon drew up beside her as he stopped directly before Ventus’ still form. He was only a little taller than her.

“What do you want with him?” she demanded.

Again, silence was her answer. Naminé inhaled sharply as the figure raised an arm and reached forward, his gloved fingers outstretched towards Ventus’ chest--

The paralysis holding her broke. Naminé did the only thing she could think of and threw out both hands to grasp the man’s arm, her thin fingers holding tight. _“Don’t--!”_

Her shoulders went rigid with surprise in the same second that his head whipped sharply towards her. Feelings, personality, desires, intentions, _memory_ \-- they all flowed into her through that touch and in a quickened beat of her heart she knew--

“You?” she breathed in surprise. The muscle beneath her hands tensed and a second later Naminé was on the ground, tossed aside with hardly any effort on his part. Her elbows and shoulders surely bruised on the cold marble flooring, but she bit back her discomfort and quickly pushed herself up onto her hip.

The stranger -- no, no longer a stranger -- had already turned his back on her, his focus once more on Ventus, and now she knew why. Now she knew why he was here, why he intended to take Ventus from this place--

And she knew she couldn’t let that happen. She also knew that he was strong, far stronger than anything she could ever hope to contend with, and she stood no chance against him in physical might.

But she had touched his memory just now, because he was connected to Sora. And if he was connected to Sora… she could touch his memory again.

With the same panicked urgency as before, Naminé reached out -- not for his arm this time, but his heart and mind. She closed her eyes and searched, feeling for the links in the chain of his memories. She found them, threw all of her concentration into seizing the closest one, pulled sharply at it--

\--and heard a loud, pained grunt. She looked up to see the figure stumble back from the throne, grasping his head. Still gripping his memory in her mind, she could read his shock and confusion; she could sense his suspicion, and then feel his realization when he abruptly rounded on her with what she knew was a hot glare. She held his hidden gaze defiantly.

“They trusted him to me,” she said quietly, her voice terse with the effort of holding on. “I won’t let you hurt him.”

He straightened up and turned to face her fully. A short crackle and glimpse of light announced the Keyblade materializing into his right hand, but he didn’t move right away. Maybe he was wary of her attacking him again; maybe it was a sign that he was hesitant to kill her; maybe it was something else, but Naminé couldn’t get a read on him right then. He was too collected and somehow managed to keep his thoughts subdued and concealed from her. When she made no sign of backing down, he started towards her, again with that easy pace.

He wouldn’t be caught off guard again. Even if she continued to poke at his memory like she just did, he would easily find the opportunity to strike her down. Pushing herself back across the floor, struggling in vain to keep some space between them, Naminé tried to think of something, anything that could distract him, but manipulating his memory to that degree would take time that she didn’t have. Taking it apart, rearranging, reattaching -- that all took time and precision, and she couldn’t--

She went still.

This wasn’t Sora. This wasn’t any of the others. This was someone trying to hurt Ventus and, by extension, those who cared for him.

Naminé didn’t need to be careful.

As he drew back his Keyblade for a stabbing blow, Naminé put all of her focus forward now, the bright room around her going dark as she concentrated every ounce of power she could muster onto a couple of his memory’s links. It was a blind grab; it didn’t matter which ones she chose. She just took hold of them with her will and, for the first time in her short life, consciously poured too much force onto them.

She felt the chain snap like thin glass between her hands.

He actually cried out this time, an angry snarl that seethed with killing intent beneath the agony that shot through his head. Naminé scrambled to her feet and dashed back towards Ventus -- but with another furious cry the hooded figure intercepted her, making a wild swing of his Keyblade that she only narrowly avoided by stumbling sideways. Steel met marble in a small shower of sparks.

Naminé whirled around in time to see him bearing down on her again, but he was hunched over with pain and she could hear his labored breathing. Another clumsy move saved her as she tripped backwards, that Keyblade’s edge passing only inches over her head. Even as she hit the floor on her back and felt the air leave her lungs, she reached up, focused again, and _yanked_ , determination fueling her efforts like machinery. Another link broke.

His head snapped back as though physically struck, his hood falling away from his face. Again Naminé moved to stand and flee, but even now, barely conscious, he was used to fighting through pain, to ignoring it, and he lashed out with a swing that cut hard across the back of her right shoulder and sent her down to her knees. She knew it hurt, she knew it was bleeding, but adrenaline must have kicked in because for the moment she only felt a light sting. She kept going, her breath leaving her in anxious pants now as she forced herself up and hurried towards Ventus. She wasn’t sure what she would do once there. She didn’t even know if the tremble in her body was from pain or fear or the nausea of having intentionally mishandled someone’s memories like that, but the only thing that seemed right just then was _Get to Ventus._

She nearly collapsed against the arm of the throne as she reached it. “Ventus,” she whispered, “Ventus, _please,_ wake up--” She turned around -- just in time for the back side of a fist to strike her hard across the face. The blow knocked her backwards onto the throne and Ventus, her jaw throbbing with a pulsing pain that worked up into the rest of her head and made her vision tilt. The ringing in her ears was piercing, making it hard to focus on one point long enough to attack the wielder’s memory again. He didn’t even give her time to try. A second later hard fingers closed around her throat and hauled her up out of the seat, their grip choking the breath out of her and with it any hopes of fighting back.

His golden-yellow eyes were narrow, intent, and full of spite. His face was pale with pain but otherwise collected and neutral -- and while Naminé had never met him in-person before now, she still wasn’t surprised in the slightest to find herself face-to-face with a dead ringer for Sora.

“Orders were to let you live if it could be helped,” Vanitas told her, his tone indifferent as he watched her scratch in vain at his hand. “Too bad you’re not helping.”

What kind of person could still _move_ like he was? Her first attack should have knocked him out cold, easily. For him to still be functioning after two…

Maybe it was because he didn’t regard any of his memories as precious, Naminé realized, the thought occurring to her somewhere in the back of her panicking mind. If he didn’t consider them to be a part of his identity, it wouldn’t matter how many of them she stressed or shattered. He would keep going, keep obeying orders. The pitch-black hatred that he emanated towards Ventus, as thick and obvious to Naminé as a fog at this proximity, was seeped into him so deeply that he probably didn’t need conscious thought to keep driving him forward.

Any other time, she would have found that sad.

Even around her hopeless gasps for air, she could hear Vanitas’ thoughts like passing voices in an empty hall. He was half-considering stabbing through her and Ventus both, _the Master can find another_ , he felt some dark satisfaction when he tightened his grip and she shuddered weakly, only able to watch as he drew back his weapon--

The room faded and the pressure around her neck, the growing agony in her shoulder, the sticky warmth running down her arm -- it all left her. Her thoughts went dark, and for some length of time Naminé wondered why she had felt so scared in the first place…

And then she collided with something hard. Cold marble struck her side, cold air filled her burning lungs, cold light blinded her as sight flooded back into her eyes. She was only vaguely aware of blurred movements and muffled sounds -- but as her thoughts rearranged themselves into something lucid, she remembered where she was and quickly pushed herself up, shaking her sore head clear.

_Ventus!_

Fear seized her and she quickly turned around -- and found him still sleeping in his chair, still unmoved despite the events. She dared to let out a short sigh of relief, but a gentle voice beside her made her jump.

“Naminé?”

Startled and confused, she looked over and discovered Aqua kneeling beside her, one hand outstretched towards her injured shoulder. Her face was etched with worry. “Stay still, I’ll heal you.”

“Aqua… When--” Naminé realized then that the muted sounds from before were louder, clearer -- and that they were the sounds of battle. She looked quickly towards the center of the room and saw Vanitas knocked backwards, landing hard on his feet and snaking swiftly to the side to avoid a charge and a swing from--

 _Terra?_ Keyblades clashed and Terra’s plated armor rattled as he gave chase, but Vanitas had fallen back entirely on defensive maneuvers to avoid the other wielder’s aggressive two-handed strokes.

The touch of healing magic seeped into Naminé’s shoulder, instantly soothing what had grown into a piercing throb. She tried to ignore the sensation of her torn skin reattaching itself to seal the wound, but while it didn’t hurt, it was still noticeable and strange and she had to resist an uneasy shiver.

She watched the fight, silently amazed at both fighters’ speeds. Seeing a battle through someone’s memory was one thing; it was no substitute for watching it in-person. Terra and Vanitas were each a blur and she could only marvel at how quickly they could think, let alone react.

When Vanitas faked a dodge and instead cast Firaga at point-blank range, Terra was forced to halt and defend against it, cutting it out of the air with a swing. That split-second opportunity was all Vanitas needed to swiftly open a dark portal and disappear into it. Terra hurried after him, but then stopped at the last second and instead watched the Corridor close and vanish.

As soon as it was gone he turned back, his armor disappearing to reveal a concerned expression that mirrored Aqua’s. By the time he joined them, Aqua had finished her spell and Naminé felt as good as new, if still a bit shaky. The would-be bruises on her neck and arms felt as though they had been taken care of, too. Her only discomfort was the blood smeared and drying on her skin.

“Thank you,” she said quietly. She moved to sit on her knees proper. Despite her genuine gratitude, she was frowning and her eyes were downcast. “I’m sorry… I couldn’t do more. You left Ventus with me, and I couldn’t… If you hadn’t shown up…”

Now Aqua did touch her shoulder. “Naminé, you did plenty,” she assured her. “We’re just glad you and Ven are all right.” She leaned down to try and catch Naminé’s eye. “And if it wasn’t for you calling us here? We wouldn’t have made it in time.”

Blinking, Naminé raised her head a fraction. “Calling you? I didn’t… I didn’t do anything like that.”

Terra and Aqua exchanged looks. “But we heard Ven’s voice,” Terra told her with a frown. “We thought it was you, reaching out to us through our memories again.”

Naminé continued to stare. She had done such a thing before, true -- to Riku, and again when she had planted those phantoms in Aqua’s heart during her time in the Realm of Darkness, using the shadows of her friends to strengthen her resolve and help her connect with them, even speak with them. What they described now was certainly within Naminé’s power, but such a task would have taken time and intense concentration. It was nothing she could have done while distracted by Vanitas as she had been.

“N-No,” she insisted with a small shake of her head. “It wasn’t me. What did… his voice say?”

“Your name,” Terra answered. “That was it. But he sounded worried.”

“Scared,” Aqua added softly. Her expression was distant and troubled, as if the very memory still made her uneasy. The two of them had probably dropped everything they were doing to hurry back here so quickly.

Naminé turned back to Ventus. Still asleep, still the same, his head hanging forward and his shoulders rising and falling gently every few seconds. She stood up -- finding her knees a bit wobbly, but managing -- and stepped up in front of him as she closed her eyes and concentrated. Like before, she found his sleep to be too thick a barrier for even her powers to penetrate much farther than the surface.

It wasn’t all that different than how Vanitas had consciously hidden his thoughts from her, at least for the most part.

Vanitas…

Looking down at her hands, Naminé hesitated for a thoughtful moment. Then, slow and considerate, she leaned forward to take one of Ventus’ hands between her own. It was warm, his palm worn like Sora’s and Roxas’. She immediately felt feelings and thoughts brush against her own, but they were faint and distant, like voices in an adjacent room. They were also calm and gentle, the opposite of Vanitas’ abrasive emotions.

After some number of steady heartbeats, Naminé carefully withdrew her hands. Ventus still didn’t stir.

She continued to watch him, but her next words were for Terra and Aqua. “Please…” she said quietly. “Keep believing in him. He’s so close.” When she did turn around, she looked at each of them in turn, smiling brightly despite the tears gathering in her eyes. Not out of grief, but gratitude, touched beyond words by the actions of this sleeping boy. By all logic and reason it should have been impossible -- but that glance into the surface of his heart told her it wasn’t. Much like Sora, he didn’t let the impossible stop him.

Ventus had defied reason and protected her.

“He’s with you both, everywhere you go. He hears you. So please… Keep thinking of him, even when you’re apart. Keep him in your hearts. And he’ll find his way home.”

She didn’t watch for their reactions. She only turned to Ventus again, reaching out once more for the memory in his heart, heavy and hazy with sleep. A simple thought passed between them, as passing and light as a breeze, and she could only hope it reached him in the depths of his dark slumber.

And if it didn’t… she would say it again when he finally woke.

_Thank you, Ventus._


End file.
